


Behind the Scenes

by orphan_account



Category: Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Genre: Gen, Journal Entries, This Is STUPID
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 13:43:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6522145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A glimpse of the boys' ideas from between chapters two and three in a journal format.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Behind the Scenes

**Author's Note:**

> LISTEN HERE KIDS I HATE THE BOOK SO FAR BUT I HAD TO WRITE THIS FOR ENGLISH, 250 WORDS PER KID WITH THE SENTENCE PARTIALLY STARTED AND IF THAT DOESN'T SOUND LIKE FANFICTION THEN I DON'T KNOW WHAT DOES

**Piggy**

            Nobody understands how it feels for people to rip your name, your identity, from you. It hurts even more when it’s as dehumanizing as Piggy. A literal animal. Of course, I’m used to the names and ridicule, but this time felt different. I trusted Ralph to listen to me. Just foolish old me, I guess. Because of Ralph, with the help of Jack, nobody respects me. Not the littleuns, not Jack’s hunters (although I expected their respect even less), nobody. There’s little doubt in my mind that if they could get rid of me and keep my glasses, they would.

            One person did understand. That little kid with the birthmark understood, he must’ve. The only thing I was sure we both had in common was our difference. His birthmark set him apart, gave him a disadvantage right when he stepped forward to speak. For me, my asthma, size, and glasses set me apart from the other, older kids. I don’t remember his name, if I even previously knew it at all. I wish I did. Poor bloke

            It seems that, aside from the societal biases, one other thing has remained common with the mainland since we were stranded. The poor can empathize with the poor, and the powerful with the powerful. It doesn’t work the other way around. Only the poor understand the poor. I am alone.

 

 

** Ralph **

I’m so frustrated with Jack and his animalistic tendencies. Ever since he failed to kill that pig we came across, he’s been all about regaining his honor. He should be protecting the people we came here with and finding a way off here. That should be our top priority, but of course, he wants to go play God with the lives of animals. What’d the real God think of all that, hunting and killing his creations while abandoning his fellow man? Either way, it’s a poor bit of judgement on his part, and I expected more of him. I must consult his choir to see whether he was always like this. This state could be a manifestation of the island’s isolation, and if so, all weapons should be taken from him.

Jack may be able to help in the long run, though, with his hunters. If they encounter the “beastie” that the smaller children say they encountered, they may kill it. Hell, it might even be a source of food for us all, if it goes especially well. He needs to curb his appetite for blood, though, in the bigger view of things.

 

Piggy is a bitter pill that just keeps coming back up. Every time I think he’s out of my hair and in someone else, preferably someone who is off track, he just keeps coming back to ruin it all. His glasses are useful; I must agree with Jack there. If it weren’t for him, as well, we wouldn’t have noticed that the birthmarked boy was gone. Like with anyone, he just gets old with time. Small doses aren't enough to kill me, with both of them, in fact.

 

 

** Jack **

Who cares about the pig, I know that’s what Ralph is thinking. I won’t put up with his narrow minded ideals. If he thinks he can intervene with me doing my best to get the meat for the boys, then he has another thing coming for him.

Speaking of another thing coming, that lardo Piggy. If I wanted, I could’ve gotten more meat from him than the literal pig we already encountered. I mean, it’s an unthinkable act, to maim and kill another human, and I don’t think I’d ever have the guts to. But just the way he talks to us, how he thinks he deserves power for doing nothing. He’s asking for someone to come up and stab him in the back, both metaphorically and literally. That fat hog would only whine about it, then get out of breath because of the asthma that, of course, boosts him to royal levels. Royal, my ass.

I mean, the added benefit of having Piggy gone would be for his glasses. We wouldn’t have to wait for that tub of blubber to waddle up the mountain each time we would want to light the fire. If he happens to vanish without his glasses, that could be my version of the conch. I’d like that. Ralph and I both would have our symbols of power, mine more typical like a monocle, his more distant, the conch. Piggy won’t be going anywhere any time soon, but there’s no use in being hopeless, I guess.


End file.
